State Street Bakery & Eatery opened last month in the location that was for years the disheveled yet beloved O’Bagelo’s. O’Bagelo’s sandwiches, cookies and soups were generous and comforting, but ragged carpets, scuffy furniture, messy windowsills and mild haze of dust were either hard to stomach or part of the charm, depending on your hygiene orientation.

The new operation has a much more polished pedigree: contemporary chrome light fixtures, vibrant wall colors and two shiny pastry cases that had just enough inside to escape that depressing state of being half-empty, but not quite enough to pack it with the “wow” factor. Yes, I was impressed by cream puffs, Danish fruit tartlets, biscotti and beloved meatball cookies. But part of the fun of going to a sweet shop is that jaw-dropping, eye-popping display of excess. I want eye candy, even if I’m only going to be miserly and buy a single little anise cookie (cookies are $12 per pound).

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Manager Joe Pacheco countered my observation this way: Customers are buying stuff faster than they anticipated, and production levels are still being figured out. In fact, State Street’s pastry lineup includes Napoleons, eclairs, cakes, sweet rolls, cannoli, filled croissants and pies.

Behind-the-counter signage alerted customers about Thanksgiving pie orders. The choices were staggering. By the time you read this it will be too late for Thursday’s feast, but there is always Christmas. Pies should also be making their debut in the daily pastry case soon, Pacheco says.

Let’s talk savory. State Street has hot and cold sandwiches, breakfast sandwiches, a burger, soups, a few salads and daily entrée specials such as chicken or turkey pot pie, roasted lamb and hot meatball subs.

I arrived at State Street for lunch alone, but ran into Jan and Gary. Acquaintances when we decided to share a table, we are now bonded by that most intimate of invitations, “Hey, you want to try this?”

Their macaroni and cheese special ($6.95) swam in a pool of cheesy cream, but ascended to a buttered bread-crumb top crust that could make the best of friends sharing this dish fight over the last bite. Their pureed cauliflower soup ($3.50 a cup/$4.50 a bowl) was neither too thick nor thin, and was made indulgent by a blend of mystery seasonings.

What did I bring to the table? A slightly oversalted lentil soup (same price as above) offered with a pasta option (I declined) and a lovely curried chicken salad sandwich on thick, salt-crusted focaccia on a plate with potato chips and pickle ($6.95).

Hot and cold sandwiches (steak, barbecued roast pork, Reuben, tuna, for example, and priced $6.96 to $7.95) could also land on sliced bread, croissant or brioche, baked on-site.